


This Cruel Wanting

by Arbryna



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, F/F, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamsin reflects on the past, and on the woman she's spent centuries searching for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics and title are from ["Lost in Paradise"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rnxlW5TrBs), by Evanescence. If you are a Valkubus fan, I highly recommend listening to this song. It's eerily perfect.

_I've been believing in something so distant_  
 _As if I was human_  


~ Evanescence, "Lost in Paradise"

* * *

 

She wasn't supposed to be real.

When the Wanderer laid out the job, Tamsin wanted to laugh. Well, almost. Somewhere under the fear freezing the blood in her veins. He's still the purest evil Tamsin's ever encountered, in all the centuries she's been alive. Just looking at him, feeling his eyes on her…she's never been one to admit fear, but she _knew_ that if she didn't tell him what he wanted to hear, death would be the last thing she'd have to worry about.

Besides, there was no harm in saying yes, right? It's not like someone like that could ever exist. Eyes both brown and blue, virtuous yet lustful, neither Light nor Dark but somehow both…it was too perfect.

So she took his money, and promised to keep an eye out for this mystery woman. She figured she'd never find her mark, but he was at least a patient man—or creature—and seemed satisfied with sporadic updates about her lack of success. This woman was worth the wait, he said, and besides, Tamsin couldn't escape him if she tried.

Oh, and Tamsin tried. The Wanderer was responsible for some of her more painful, drawn-out deaths, and when she'd finally had enough, Tamsin understood that there was no escaping this contract. Until she found this impossible woman, her life was his.

As the years passed, then the centuries, the image Tamsin had in her mind grew more and more unrealistic. A woman who championed for the less powerful, who fought for freedom, whose heart was both strong and gentle. She would be able to hold her own in any fight, but never grow hard and unfeeling. She would be beautiful and funny and kind, an example of everything Tamsin always wanted to be. She couldn't possibly exist.

Then Tamsin met her.

What Tamsin can't say, not to Kenzi or Bo or anybody, is that she fell in love with Bo lifetimes ago. Before Bo ever existed, the idea of her burned bright across centuries, and Tamsin has been drawn to that light ever since it was a tiny fragile spark.

She never _wanted_ Bo to be real, though. Tamsin knew that if this woman existed, there was no way the Wanderer wouldn't find her—no way to escape whatever twisted fate he had in store for her. So while some naive idiots might have spent their nights wishing for this perfect love to come into their lives, Tamsin spent hers praying that it never would.

Of course it didn't work. She should have known, should have seen, but her stubborn pride kept the truth just out of arms' reach. Even when it was staring her in the face, Tamsin desperately clung to her denial, refused to believe that Bo could be the one she'd been looking for all this time.

But it was too late. He found her, he took her, and it's Tamsin's fault. No matter how sincerely Bo forgives her, Tamsin doesn't think she can ever forgive herself.

She knows Bo will never love her. Even once she accepted that Bo was real, that Bo was the dream woman she spent centuries looking for, she never let herself hope for anything to happen. All she wanted, once she sobered up enough to figure it out, was for Bo to be safe. That would have been enough.

Now, though…shit. She never would have kissed Bo if she thought Bo would remember. She certainly wouldn't have let herself be so vulnerable. But now the damage is done, and Tamsin has felt the way Bo's lips melt and soften underneath her own before turning hard and greedy, the way Bo's hands feel like fire on her skin, burning through leather and cotton as Bo clutches at her back.

It should be enough, to have experienced that. Enough to have gotten a taste of pure bliss—but one taste could never be enough. She wants Bo more than ever now, wants to spend the rest of this last precious life drowning in Bo's kisses, arching into her touch.

Tamsin isn't an idiot. She doesn't expect it to happen, not for her. Knowing and wishing are two different things, though, and she can't seem to keep her traitorous heart from doing the latter.

It's why she left. Bo is Dark now just like her, Tamsin could have spent the rest of the night eagerly lapping up whatever attention Bo happened to toss her way. It might have been weird, having Kenzi there too—having a mother-figure present with you and the chick you're hardcore in lurve with is even worse than hearing said mother-figure discuss her own sexcapades—but it would have been worth it, to bask in the warmth and life that Bo seems to exude without trying.

But as much as Tamsin wants to spend every moment of her life at Bo's side, it hurts. Tamsin has barely had a break tonight—all of the tonights she's been through—and she needs to put some distance between herself and Bo before she does something even stupider than all the other things she's done, like fall to her knees and profess her undying love.

Distance is definitely good. Distance and alcohol would be even better.

Tamsin is halfway to the nearby late-night liquor store when a familiar yellow convertible pulls up beside her.


	2. Chapter 2

_And I've been denying this feeling of hopelessness_    
 _In me, in me_

~ Evanescence, "Lost in Paradise"

* * *

 

Even with the box securely shut and stowed in her trunk, Bo can feel the smoke calling to her. It beckons her, pulls at something deep inside of her, and it's all she can do to keep her hands on the wheel so she doesn't reach for it.

She needs answers. She tells herself that's why she's driving in the direction she is, why she's seeking out Tamsin's company as though they haven't been joined at the hip for what feels like weeks tonight.

And occasionally joined in other places. Bo pulls her lower lip between her teeth, tastes it with her tongue. Her mouth still tingles from the way Tamsin's moved against it, trembling and full of a desperate, fragile sort of need.

Bo shakes her head and grips the steering wheel harder. That's not why she's doing this; she's definitely not looking for Tamsin so they can finish what the time loop so rudely interrupted.

Hunger flares in her chest, then twists sharply as her eyes catch a lone figure walking along the sidewalk. Tamsin looks up as the car approaches and slows to a halt, jabbing her thumbs through her belt loops as Bo pulls up beside her.

"Get in, loser," Bo quips. "We're going drinking."

A smile breaks across Tamsin's lips, bright and vulnerable for a few precious seconds before she crafts it into a smirk. She rolls her eyes and pulls open the passenger door. "Sounds like my kind of Yule."

***

"Ugh." Bo grimaces as the cheap vodka slides down her throat. "This shit does not get any smoother the more you drink."

Tamsin shrugs, grabs the bottle from Bo's hands. "You're the one who said we couldn't use our powers to convince him to give us the good stuff."

Bo rolls her eyes. "Because yours would leave him doubting himself for weeks and I'm not going to use mine just to score some booze."

"Whatever," Tamsin says, lifting the bottle to her lips.

When Tamsin's head tilts back, Bo's eyes are drawn to the line of her throat. She remembers dragging her tongue up that throat, pressing her lips to that jawline—there would be marks if the time loop hadn't erased them. She remembers the little moans that vibrated under her lips, the way Tamsin just melted against her, hard and soft in all the right places.

The memory sparks Bo's hunger back to life, heating her skin and flushing her cheeks. She shakes her head and sighs, hoping it comes across as exasperated affection rather than a pained struggle to control herself.

"Give me that," Bo says, reaching for the vodka. She tips her head back and takes a hearty swig, all too aware of Tamsin's eyes burning into her skin.

When she lowers the bottle, Bo glances over and her breath catches in her throat; Tamsin's eyes are dark, her cheeks flushed, and her aura is flaring bright in the darkness of the car. Looks like Bo's not the only one getting distracted.

Once she realizes she's caught, Tamsin lowers her gaze to the liquor. She pulls it back to her own lap, but instead of drinking, she just looks down at it.

"So, I know you didn't come after me just so we could get wasted in your car," Tamsin says. There's a tension in her voice, a nervous sort of tremor. Dark fingernails pick at the label on the bottle. "What's up, Succulette?"

The nickname brings a smile to Bo's lips, and for a second she forgets about the box sitting in her trunk. It's only for a second though, then the fear comes creeping back in, freezing her blood. Her fingers clench hard around the steering wheel as she fights back the panic in her chest.

Tamsin's hand settles on top of Bo's, and that panic ebbs just a little bit. Bo's not sure why, but Tamsin makes her feel _safe_ , in a way that she hasn't felt before. She looks up and gives Tamsin a weak smile.

"I have to show you something."


	3. Chapter 3

_All the promises I made_   
_Just to let you down_   
_You believed in me, but I'm broken_

 

* * *

 

"Shit."

Tamsin's eyes are fixed on the open box, on the jar full of swirling black smoke. Bo isn't exactly comforted by her reaction.

"Apparently I sent it to myself, before I went all eternal sunshine of the spotless mind." Bo crosses her arms over her chest, watching Tamsin's face closely. "Do you know what it is?"

The breath Tamsin takes sounds heavy, thick. "I wish I did." She glances at Bo, an apology in her eyes. She looks as scared as Bo feels. "I just know it has to do with _him_."

"Great," Bo sighs. "I guess we can pretty much rule out anything good then."

"To say the least."

The smoke presses against the glass, as though it's straining to get free. Bo can feel it, stronger than before, enticing her to open the jar and let it out. The urge grows until Bo finds one hand closed around the glass, the other reaching for the lid.

In a matter of seconds, Tamsin pulls the jar from Bo's grasp and shoves it back in the box, slamming the trunk shut after it. Bo looks up at Tamsin and blinks.

"Oh my god." Bo pulls her arms tight around herself, but it doesn't stop her from shaking. "Tamsin, what am I doing? I'm not even strong enough to deal this stupid box, how am I supposed to face the Wanderer himself?"

"Hey." Tamsin's hands settle on her shoulders, warm and solid. One slides up to cup Bo's cheek, guiding her to meet Tamsin's eyes. "You are the strongest person I have ever met. If anyone can face him, you can."

The words breathe confidence back into Bo. Tamsin's belief in her is unshakable, shining steady in her eyes. Rather than question it, Bo embraces it, stepping forward to wrap her arms around Tamsin's waist. She rests her head against Tamsin's shoulder, breathing in the smell of leather and vodka.

Tamsin is startled at first, but quickly brings her arms up around Bo, rubbing soothing circles into her back. Her heart pounds against Bo's cheek. "You won't be alone," Tamsin murmurs, her voice quiet but firm. "Whatever happens, I'll be right there to back you up."

It shouldn't make this much of a difference. Bo may have spent a decade alone, but she has a family now—good people who would have her back no matter what.

Well, if they took the time to notice she needed help. It still stings, how they could leave her passed out in the car for so long. She gets that everyone has their own drama to deal with, but is it so much to ask that _someone_ remember to wake her up for a party she's throwing at her own house? But no, they were all too wrapped up in their own shit.

Except Tamsin. Somehow Bo doesn't doubt that if Tamsin knew she was out there, she would have woken up to a nudge and a smirk instead of an empty car.

Maybe that's why Tamsin's declaration means so much. It's more than just words, it's a promise that she knows Tamsin would do anything to keep.

Bo hugs Tamsin a little tighter before slowly pulling away. She doesn't go far though, reluctant to leave the warmth and safety of their embrace.

For a moment they just stand there, arms still loosely resting on waist and shoulders. It feels like they've been here a thousand times before—sharing the same breath, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Just like every other time—except tonight, except those kisses at the party that Bo can still taste—Tamsin backs off the second Bo starts to lean in.

"I don't know about you," Tamsin says, her voice thick, "but I need more booze."

Bo blinks, tries to catch her breath as Tamsin reaches into the car to grab the vodka. She takes a long pull from the bottle, hissing as she swallows. For a moment Tamsin keeps her back turned, hesitating, and when she turns back to Bo, she's got a look on her face like she's trying to work up the nerve for something.

What that something is becomes clear as Tamsin steps closer, trapping Bo between her and the car. "You know, the time loop is history," she says, her hands trembling a bit where they come to rest on Bo's hips. Her eyes stay lowered, avoiding Bo's gaze. "We won't be interrupted this time."

It sounds like half-invitation, half-warning, but it's all the encouragement Bo needs. Her fingers curl around the lapels of Tamsin's jacket—that damn leather jacket that is _way_ too sexy to be allowed—and her lips crash against Tamsin's, hard and hungry.

Despite the fact that she's the one who has Bo pinned to the side of her car, Tamsin cedes control almost at once. Bo accepts it eagerly, sliding her hands up to tangle in Tamsin's hair and tug her closer. Tamsin's mouth parts easily, releasing a soft moan that vibrates against Bo's tongue.

The hunger Bo never quite managed to subdue comes roaring back to life, consuming her with hot, desperate need. She pushes against Tamsin, flipping their positions and wedging a knee between Tamsin's thighs. Tamsin groans, clutches in vain at the smooth leather of Bo's dress as she arches into the contact.

A soft whimper catches in Tamsin's throat as Bo pulls away, but it's quickly drowned out by the flow of chi. Tamsin tastes just as good as Bo remembers, even without the benefit of Massimo's injections.

Tamsin's fingers stay curled against her back as they part for air, like she's keeping Bo from pulling too far away. As if Bo would want to. There's something different in the way Tamsin kisses her, something electric and warm and exciting. She can't wait to see what everything else is like.

Something stops Bo from moving back in, though, keeps her from letting go completely. Something about that little smile on Tamsin's lips that manages to be both fragile and seductive all at once, about the way she's not even trying to hide the love in her eyes (or if she is, she really sucks at it). She's practically holding out her heart for Bo to take, and some deep part of Bo wants to tear it to pieces, to crush it under her heel and laugh as Tamsin crumbles before her.

Her stomach lurches as bile rises in her throat. She's only ever hurt people, especially the ones who love her. She's hurting Dyson and Lauren even now, using Dyson as a distraction and refusing to submit to the Dark to be with Lauren. The darkness in her is growing, taking control, and she's afraid of what she's becoming, of who else she might hurt.

"Hey." Tamsin's voice is soft, gentle. It would be so easy to hurt her right now, to shatter that warm affection that lurks behind nervous ice-blue eyes. Bo's brow tightens further, and Tamsin's thumb brushes over the wrinkled skin. "That was supposed to distract you from scary thoughts."

It hits Bo then, the reality of what's just happened—of what Tamsin is doing. This isn't some drunken hookup, or casual fun between (sort of) friends. Tamsin's doing this for _her_ —she's putting Bo first, like she's always done, and to hell with whatever pain it might cause her.

And it does hurt. Bo can see that now, past the nerves and desire and love in Tamsin's eyes—there's a bitter kind of resignation there, an acceptance that comes damn close to breaking Bo's heart.

So many people have loved Bo, but no one so completely and selflessly as Tamsin does.

She doesn't deserve it. Bo is a monster, a killer. She breaks hearts and ruins lives. She wants to grab Tamsin and shake her, to make her understand. Make her take it back, take her love back and give it to someone more worthy. Someone who has something to give Tamsin in return.

But she knows that would just hurt Tamsin more.

"I guess they're persistent," Bo finally says, untangling her fingers and resting her hands on Tamsin's shoulders. She's not pushing Tamsin away, not quite, but Tamsin gets the message nonetheless.

"More booze should shut the little shits up," Tamsin says, squeezing Bo's hips gently before sliding out from between Bo and the car. "We've still got half the bottle left."

The prospect of drinking more with Tamsin, alone in her car, is as tempting as it is terrifying. Bo knows she'll lose control, give in to her hunger and to what Tamsin so clearly wants, and it will only do more damage when she eventually breaks Tamsin's heart. She can't take advantage of Tamsin's feelings for her just for the sake of a feed, or a distraction.

Before Tamsin can open the door, Bo reaches out to rest a hand on her arm. "I, uh…I think that might make it worse right now."

Tamsin turns back to look at her, and confusion quickly dissolves into something almost like understanding.

"In that case…" Tamsin trails off, leaning against the car beside Bo. It's casual, flirtatious almost, and Bo's pulse skips. Tamsin smirks. "How do you feel about greasy eggs and toast?"


	4. Chapter 4

_As much as I‘d like the past not to exist_   
_It still does_   
_And as much as I‘d like to feel like I belong here_   
_I‘m just as scared as you_

* * *

 

Tamsin drives. She tells Bo it’s because she knows where she’s going, and Bo doesn’t put up much resistance to the idea. What it’s really about is needing something to focus on other than the taste of Bo’s mouth, or the heat of Bo’s body pressed against hers and how it sparked an answering warmth in her chest—one that had dangerously little to do with arousal.

She needs something to distract her from how badly she wants to pull the car over, to climb onto Bo’s lap and get lost in the taste and smell and feel of her. She could do it right now, she knows; Bo wouldn’t stop her. She could have Bo’s body laid out naked and wanting on the back seat, feel Bo’s slick heat clenching around her, taste every inch of Bo’s skin.

The reason she doesn’t, the reason her hands grip the steering wheel like it’s the side of a cliff she’s about to fall over, is that it wouldn’t be what she really wants.

She could touch any part of Bo that she wanted to right now, but she couldn’t get near Bo’s heart. It would just be sex, and she can’t decide if it would be worth the pain.

Ugh. She hates thinking about this shit. Tamsin prefers acting on impulse, rolling with the punches, not sitting around overthinking every goddamn thing.

Bo’s been glancing over at her every so often, lingering just a little longer each time. Finally, at a stop light, Tamsin turns to catch her in the act. Bo smiles and blushes a little, looks away, but by the time they reach the next light Tamsin can feel those eyes on her again.

_Screw it_ , Tamsin thinks, as she pulls Bo’s car into a spot outside a run-down diner. She grabs one last swig of vodka before stowing the bottle under her seat, then shoves the keys into her pocket as she exits the car.

She’s done thinking tonight.

***

“Want my cherry?” The question makes Bo immediately choke on her water. Tamsin laughs and rolls her eyes, giving Bo’s foot a gentle kick under the table. “Oh my god, you perv. I‘ll eat it myself.“

Bo clears her throat and coughs, but Tamsin is pretty sure the color staining Bo’s cheeks has less to do with the choking and more to do with the thoughts Tamsin just planted in her head.

It’s not like she did it on purpose—she really was just trying to be nice—but now that the idea is out there, Tamsin can’t resist teasing Bo just a little more. She brings the cherry to her mouth, takes her time wrapping her lips around it. Bo’s eyes follow the movement, glowing faintly blue as Tamsin catches the fruit behind her teeth and pulls the stem off.

A smirk pulls at Tamsin’s lips as she chews, takes a sip of her cherry coke to wash it down. Bo seems to catch herself, blinking and shaking her head before taking another—more successful—sip of water.

Then it becomes less fun and more awkward. Bo sets her water back down, fiddles with the glass. Her brow is furrowed like she’s struggling with something, or thinking too hard.

“So,” Tamsin says. Time to change the subject. “Whatcha gonna do about your little mystery package?”

Well, it _seemed_ like a safer subject, at least.

Bo shrugs, sighs irritably. “Ask Trick, I guess. If he ever sobers up.”

“You sure that‘s a good idea?” Tamsin kicks herself as soon as the question leaves her mouth. He’s Bo’s grandfather, of course she’d want to go to him.

It’s just…well, he _has_ been hiding stuff from Bo. And something about Trick has always made Tamsin uneasy, something vague and just barely out of reach. He’s definitely a man with an agenda, and she’s never been convinced it’s entirely good.

Bo answers with another sigh and shrug, more shaky and resigned than the first. It’s clear she has her own doubts about Gramps. “It‘s the only one I‘ve got, besides ‘open the jar and see what happens’.”

A chill seeps into Tamsin’s blood at the thought, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She doesn’t know what could be in that jar, or what it might do to Bo, but she knows it can’t be anything good.

She also knows that whatever it is, she’ll do everything she can to help Bo face it. She’s not naive enough to think that Bo could need her protection, or that she’d even accept it if it was offered; Bo isn’t the type to hide behind the protection of others. It’s one of the things Tamsin loves about her.

Shit. She knows she’s in trouble when she starts thinking like a hormonal teenager. Which, granted, she still kind of is a little, but not enough to be comfortable fawning over Bo like the rest of her harem.

Luckily, the food arrives then—a timely distraction from heavier topics. Tamsin doesn’t waste a second digging in to her breakfast platter. It’s greasy, and heavy on the salt and butter; it’s perfect.

She’s halfway through her pancakes when she notices Bo watching with an amused smirk on her face. “What?” Tamsin asks around a mouthful of food.

Bo shakes her head. “I thought you would‘ve grown out of that,” she explains, nodding toward Tamsin’s food to indicate the chaos she’s already made of her plate.

Tamsin rolls her eyes. She’s a warrior; proper etiquette has never been a high priority. She gets most of the food in her mouth, which is more than she can say for a lot of fae. “Why bother?” she asks with a shrug. “It‘s my last life, might as well enjoy everything to the fullest.”

A small frown tugs at the corners of Bo’s mouth. “I wondered about that. You‘re still fae, right? I mean…” she trails off with a vague gesture.

“Yeah, I‘ve still got a few centuries to go,” Tamsin replies with a smirk. “Can‘t get rid of me that easily.“

After a beat, Bo reaches across the table to gently squeeze Tamsin’s forearm, catching Tamsin’s gaze and holding it. “I wouldn’t want to.”

It’s Tamsin’s turn to look away then; there’s an earnest sincerity in Bo’s voice that she doesn’t know how to respond to. Instead she gathers up another heaping bite of pancakes, stabs her fork into some eggs and bacon for good measure, then lifts the whole dripping thing to her mouth.

Bo just watches, shaking her head as Tamsin chews. Tamsin gives her another kick and motions to Bo’s more modest one-egg breakfast. Bo rolls her eyes and smiles before turning her attention to her own food.

***

It goes in a cycle. They’ll be sitting there, just eating and occasionally talking about something light and stress-free, and Bo will look at her like she’s the tastiest thing on the menu. Heat will spread across Tamsin’s cheeks, rush to other areas, and Tamsin will forget about the food, the diner, the other patrons, everything that isn’t Bo.

Then Bo will realize what she’s doing, and Tamsin will see a shadow of guilt fall over the desire in Bo’s eyes before Bo looks away. Things will be awkward for a couple of minutes, then Tamsin will crack a joke or the waiter will check on them or something, and Bo will start to relax again.

Rinse and repeat.

After about the twentieth time, Tamsin gets fed up with Bo looking at her like she’s some fragile thing, like she’s going to break if Bo looks at her wrong.

“I‘m stronger than you think, you know,” Tamsin says. She raises an eyebrow when Bo’s eyes widen in surprise. _Smarter, too._

Bo’s surprise is short-lived, quickly replaced by concern. “I could still hurt you.“

Tamsin shrugs, flashes Bo a cocky smirk. “I can take it.”

“That doesn‘t make it right,” Bo retorts. She reaches across the table, curls her hand around Tamsin’s fingers. “You deserve better.”

The laugh that comes out of Tamsin’s mouth is more bitter than she intended. “I don’t know about that.”

“Tamsin.” Bo’s hand tightens around Tamsin’s. “You do.”

“Sure, whatever.” Tamsin squeezes Bo’s hand before reclaiming her own, spreading both arms out across the back of the booth. She quirks an eyebrow. “You know, if you ever change your mind…”

“Believe me,” Bo says. Her eyes almost start to take on a blue tinge as she rakes them pointedly over Tamsin’s torso. “You‘ll be the first to know.”

The low purr of Bo’s voice makes something twist in Tamsin’s gut, and she looks out the window to try to keep her balance. “Sun‘s rising,” she notes. “Should be safe to go home now.”

It’s still weird, thinking of it that way. Home. She hasn’t belonged anywhere in a good long while. She’s still not totally sure she does here.

“Home.“ The look in Bo‘s eyes, the little smile on her lips—they’re enough to make Tamsin think maybe she does belong. “Good idea, Valkyrie. Let’s go home.“

***

A quick peek into the room—by Bo; Tamsin does _not_ want to have those kinds of mental scars—reveals that Kenzi and Hale are both fully covered, and fully conked out on Kenzi’s bed.

“I’d offer to let you bunk with me,” Bo says quietly, jokingly. “But that’s probably not the best idea.”

“I’ll be fine.” Tamsin waves her hand dismissively. “They’ve gotta be tired out by now anyway. Should be safe at least ‘til morning.”

She starts to turn, but Bo’s hand catches around her wrist before she can get far. As sleepy as she is, and as drained, Tamsin can only stand there as Bo reaches up and cradles her cheek in one hand. Bo’s brow furrows a little, and before Tamsin knows it Bo is leaning in to close the distance. Her lips brush against Tamsin’s softly, sweetly. It’s gentle and chaste and only lasts a moment but when Bo pulls away, Tamsin feels like she hasn’t breathed in years.

“What was that for?”

“A thank you.” Bo smiles, strokes Tamsin’s cheek with her thumb. “For being there for me tonight. For being you.”

Tamsin rolls her eyes, tries to ignore the pounding of her heart. “Who else would I be? Choga?”

“Ugh, I hope not,” Bo groans. She frowns. “Although you did both ask me to lick you tonight.”

“Oh please,” Tamsin scoffs, gesturing down at herself. “There is no comparison.”

“You got that right. There is only one of you I’d want to lick.” Bo pauses, her hand slides from Tamsin’s cheek down to her shoulder. When Tamsin quirks an expectant eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugs at the edges of Bo’s mouth. “So do you think he’s single?”

“Oh my god,” Tamsin says, rolling her eyes and shoving at Bo’s shoulder. “Go to bed, Succubus.”

“I’m going,” Bo concedes, raising her hands in surrender as she steps backward. The mirth in her eyes settles into something softer, gentler. “Sweet dreams, Valkyrie.”

Tamsin watches Bo disappear behind her bedroom door, then turns to enter her own. Kenzi and Hale are still sound asleep; they’re almost kinda cute that way, but then Tamsin remembers what Kenzi was talking about earlier and gags. TMI is an understatement.

Her own bed is waiting more or less how she left it. It’s weird to come back to it now, with all of her old memories intact. She’s barely spent two months here, but this house, this room, this bed…they’re more of a home than she ever had in the centuries that came before.

This could be enough, Tamsin thinks. To have a home, to have a family. She can be satisfied with the fluttering in her stomach, the warmth that fills her chest whenever Bo looks at her. Just being able to make Bo smile like that, like they’re sharing something private and special—it’s more than she ever would have thought to hope for.

If that’s all she can ever have, so be it. She’s made do with a lot less in her lifetimes.

 

* * *

 

_We‘ve been falling for all this time_   
_And now I‘m lost in paradise_

_Alone, and lost in paradise_


End file.
